The Ways of Magic
by ElroyJetson1060
Summary: Magic is just that magic. It can do incredible things, and sometimes it can do things that even wizards thought impossible.
1. Chapter 1

Arthur Weasley was nothing if not a family man; hence he had had six children with his wife Molly even though they were a rather poor family. It was his love that had allowed him through it, but things had changed when his finale child was born. The child was a girl by the name of Ginny. She was a beautiful little thing with red hair that was even more striking than him, her mother, or brothers, but even as lovely a child she was she was destroying the family.

They had been poor before, but they had been able to survive by giving their children hand me downs, but with Ginny being a girl it meant they would have to buy her new clothes and other necessities that they boys did not need, and it was slowly driving the family to ruin. The culmination of this came when they had only five galleons left in their vault.

"Arthur..." Molly began one night as they were setting Ginny down for bed. "We can't afford to keep living like this."

Arthur gave his wife a thoughtful look. "I know that but what is there for us to do?" He had expected this conversation sooner or later. It had been harder and harder for him to provide for them, and it was getting to the point that Molly nearly needed to take up a job.

"Arthur! We are near starving! I've been barely able to get Ginny the things she needed, and little Ron! I haven't given him a proper nappy since Ginny was born!" It had been a hard week for her. She had become used to having to save as much money as she could; but lately it had gotten to the point that no matter what she did there was nearly nothing left.

Arthur thought for a moment about what his wife's words. They were starving, and at the rate they were going they would not last long. As he thought about it he remembered something that was rarely spoken of between wizards, and only the older families remembered anything of it.

"There is something that we could do, but I won't do this lightly." His voice was grim, and the expression on his face was even more so, but Molly nodded. The only thing that she could think of was taking a loan, and she knew that they had no means of paying one back.

"Alright… I'll write a letter to the goblins to negotiate the price."

"Price for what?" As far as she knew they had nothing that the goblins would be willing to pay for.

"Ronald." Molly's face turned to one of abject horror as she realized what he meant.

"We can't sell our son to those monsters?! They'll kill him!" Arthur turned to his wife a fire in his eyes.

"Don't you think I know that?! We've got no other choice!"

"But why Ron, why not the others?" the question was not something that he had expected of her, but he understood her concern.

"Fred, George, and Percy are too old; the experience would traumatize them should they survive, while Bill and Charlie are either attending Hogwarts or are about to start. We've had sons, but we've never experienced the joy of a little girl."

Molly did not respond to that. Though she knew that everything he had told her was the truth; it was still a hard pill to swallow, but sometimes the need of the many outweighed the need for the few, she just hopped that this was truly one of those times.

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Hermione Granger was a girl unlike most her age; she was highly intelligent, to the point that at the age of three she was already reading better than more ten year olds. It was this love of reading that allowed her to understand how to use the computer that her father had bought.

She mainly used it to browse the internet (though that took forever with how slowly the pages loaded), but one day her father brought home a game. The game was called The Elder Scrolls: Arena. The game was an RPG that allowed the player to explore a fictional empire located on the continent of Tamirel on a Planet called Nirm.

The game was unlike anything that she had played. In fact she had played tabletop RPGs like Dungeons and Dragons, but it was entirely different to see the world that she was being submersed in visually. It might have been crude and unwieldy, but it was better than nothing.

A year later her father graced her with the second game in the series Daggerfall, and once again she was immersed into the world of Elder Scrolls. This time she was given more freedom. In the first game she was not allowed to choose the race of her character, but with Daggerfall that choice came. She chose to be a Khajiit which was a race of bipedal cat people.

The Khajiit were endowed with grace, speed, and dexterity in an attempt to emulate their quadruped relatives; as a Khajiit Hermione loved to disregard the main quest and engage in all manner of other activities, but two things always seemed to ensnare her attention: Magic and stealth. Magic seemed for some reason to resonate with her. The destruction wrought by flames spells, the wittiness of alteration, or the manipulation that came with illusion… it all just seemed to call to her, while the ability to defy the law, or sneak up on one's enemy felt just the same.

Hermione played the game until she had beaten it several times over and knew the quests like the back of her hands before she could no longer make herself do so. She loved the game with all of her being, but there was something she yearned for, and the game could not provide it.

It took her a while to come to a conclusion on what that thing was, but it came to her one night as she slept. In her dreams she was that Khajiit assassin that specialized in magic. She killed her enemies from behind with a dagger, and she used magic to stalk her prey, and when things went to hell she would hurl a fireball.

When she awoke from that dream she was frustrated. She wanted nothing more than to make those dreams come true, but the rational side of her told her that it was not to be. The world of Elder Scrolls was nothing more than a fantasy for people to enjoy; there was no reality to it, and there never would be, but she defied that part of her mind. She got out of bed and went to the back yard. She had no idea of what she was doing, but she put the doubt aside clenched her fist and focused.

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Harry Potter was awoken abruptly from his sleep by the sound of the door to his cupboard nearly being ripped off the hinges. He was greeted by the sight of his Uncle Vernon. The man was smiling, and that set the five year old on edge, because although he was quite young and barely able to understand the world there was one thing that he excelled at, and that was survival.

From the moment he had stepped foot in Number Four Privet Drive he had had to teach himself to survive. His Aunt and Uncle were inhuman pigs that treated him as if he was nothing more than an unwanted diseased parasite that was bleeding them dry.

They shoved him into the cupboard under the stairs, they forced him to do chores the moment he could so much as lift the broom, and they gave him only just enough to survive. It was a pitiful existence, but Harry had learned to deal with it, and one of the things that helped him deal with his situation was knowing how to read his Uncle's face. When the man was angry his face turned puce, when he was happy he smiled, but never smiled at Harry, so when the boy saw his Uncle looming over him with a delighted smile on his face he could not help but think of the worst.

He was proven right in his assumptions when Vernon grabbed him pulling him roughly from the confines of the cupboard that had been his home for four years. He held back a scream that had found its way into his throat; things would surely worsen if he struggled or even made it seem as though he planned to do so.

Vernon was rather disappointed when his nephew made no noise or struggle. He had thought that he would be forced to hurt the boy (something that he would relish), but he had not be given that chance. The boy had come quietly, and even he could not bring himself to harm the boy (well bodily at least) with what he was already about to experience.

The beefy man deftly picked the boy up, and carried him out the door to the drive where his car sat idly. He took a few moments to fish around his pockets for his keys, and after finding them he opened the door and shoved the boy onto the backseat. In no time at all he was on the road traveling in a (what to Harry was) a random direction, but truly it was all but random.

Vernon had been planning for this day for a while, so he had done some research; he had been trying to find the most remote forest in all of Britain, of course that was a bit too much for him as there were several that were just too far for him to travel to quickly and without notice, so he had settled for a forest closer to home.

There were quite a few foreboding patches of greenery that one would call forest dotting England, but Vernon settled on the Epping Forest. The reason being that A it was only sixty miles from Surrey meaning that he could be there and back in less than three hours, and B it had been the site for several murders giving it an almost haunted feel, which suited his needs perfectly.

Harry did not dare do more so than breath as the car moved at breathtaking speed down the road. He could see outside the window a myriad of trees, bushes and other shrubbery; during the day such nature would be quite beautiful and enchanting, but as they moved through desolate road by moonlight Harry could not help but notice how sinister everything seemed. He swallowed thickly when the car came to a stop in a spot where there were no streetlamps, but there was a dirt path.

Vernon turned the car down that path and drove for nearly twenty minutes before turning into the forest itself. There was neither road nor path, and the forbidding branches of the trees blocked the moonlight from hitting the ground giving the area a ghoulish feel.

Vernon stopped the car slowly relishing the panic that filled his nephew's face as he looked through the rearview. When the car completely halted he turned to face the boy. "Get out of the car boy."

There was a calmness in Vernon's voice that Harry had never heard before; it was a shocking contrast to the vehement anger that he normally saw, but there was also an air of command. It may not have had the same "heat" that Harry was used to from his Uncle, but he knew that there was no choice before him: to defy the man would bring pain, so with trembling hands Harry opened the door to the car and stepped out. Immediately he was assaulted with the sounds of the forest and panic spread through his very being, only to be amplified as the man that was his Uncle drove away.

In the darkness of the forest Harry could barely breathe as fear overtook him. He had been alone before, but that was in his cupboard where he knew there was nothing but him, but at that moment he knew that there were other creatures in the forest, things that could likely kill him.

When the thought of death came to him his self-preservation instincts came to the forefront, and all he could think of was where to hide. Night was the worst possible time for a child to be lost anywhere, but in a forest where they were completely defenseless it was much worse, because for a large predator they were easy meals.

Harry frantically looked around. He did not want to move because he was not sure of where he was going, and he did not want to run into something that could hurt him, because even he knew that if he got injured surviving would be much more difficult.

As he looked around in the darkness he was barely able to spot a tree with a small hallow at its roots. Quickly as though there were an ocean of lava on the ground he scrambled to it. It was a tight fit, but he was able to squeeze into the crevice. It reminded him somewhat of the cupboard that he had called home, but the opening left him no comforts, but it had to do. It had to protect him until morning.


	2. Chapter 2

When a small owl landed in one of the many mailrooms that Gringotts housed none of the surly creatures paid it any mind. The bank received a multitude of mail each day and the more important documents were always delivered directly to account managers and their ilk, while the lesser items were handled by goblins who were more of workers than bankers.

Owls carrying letters would find their way to a mailroom where they would wait for a goblin to take the letter from them. Once the letter was taken and read the goblin would decided whether or not it was important enough to bring forward to the bankers who made up the upper echelons of goblin society.

This process normally took hours, and the small owl was not exception to this rule, so it was two and a half hours before a goblin finally took the letter from its leg.

The gobbling that took the missive was not one that many a human would have the pleasure (or misfortune) of meeting. Firstly the goblin was taller than the goblins that sat at the teller booths in the lobby of the bank; secondly the creature was decidedly feminine. She (it was in fact a female) had skin that was a lighter shade of green rather than the dark green of the male goblins, in addition her teeth were decidedly sharper than her masculine counter parts. Besides those more noticeable differences the other disparities were nothing more than the identical contrast between human males and females, that being goblin women like human women had feminine curves (they even had hair).

The female goblin was not well known to the human population because the goblin society on the outside was patriarchal. They tried to create the illusion that there were no goblin women in an attempt to protect the females.

In the past it was common that wizards took exotic women for sex slaves, and that was something that no goblin wanted another to be subjected to. They were a proud species, and having their dignity taken away from them in the form of slavery was to them the highest offense imaginable, but at the same time it was also the highest disgrace, and few could bear to live with it. Enslavement had caused many a goblin to take their own lives, however this female goblin and the others that lived within the caves that made up Gringotts were in no danger of that.

The goblin took the letter from the owl and opened it to give it a read, and her eyebrows shot up nearly bleeding into her dark hair. She read the letter a second time to ensure herself that she had seen right the first time, and she was not mistaken. The letter read:

_To Whom It May Concern,_

_ My name is Arthur Weasley, Head of House Weasley, and I seek assistance. I know it is not often that a wizard comes to seek the help of a goblin, and I may not be exaggerating if I were to say that it has never happened, but I do need help._

_ My family has been poor for generations, but we have gotten by through love, but now we have hit a point where even that could not be of help. My family is near ruin. I cannot provide for my children, and my wife is unable to take up a job because she has to look after them. The situation is dire…_

There were quite a few smudges and scribbles at this part, and the parchment had stains that the goblin instinctively knew were tear stains.

_I have a young son that is only two years. I would be willing to_ _sell him for a fair price. I know that this may be despicable to your people but it is truly the only thing that I can do._

_ Sincerely,_

_Arthur Weasley_

The goblin did think that what the human was doing was despicable, but she also knew that sometimes things that one did not want to do had to be done. She absentmindedly traced a scar that caressed her cheek. The scar was a reminder of that lesson.

She thought for a moment about what could be done about the situation. Truth be told she knew that none of the banker goblins would be willing to buy a human child. They interacted with humans on a daily basis, so there was a chance that one of the wizards could see the child and that could cause a war. Goblins could hold their own in a war, and maybe even win, but they were not ignorant of the advances of mundane folk like the wizards were. There was a great chance that a war between wizards and goblins could lead to a breach in the Statue of Secrecy, and an even larger war between magicals and the mundane. It was disturbing to think that such a cold war style atmosphere enveloped the more mundane savvy magicals, but it did, and it made having the child taken by one of the bankers impossible.

She threw her mind from the tangent that it was drawn too. She did not like humans, but she did not want a child to suffer. Most goblins like other magical creatures would love to see a human child in such a situation, but she was not inclined to do so. Children do not simply inherit the will of their parents; they are born essentially clean slates. It is when the parents teach them that they are shaped, and sometimes they do not choose to simply follow the paths that are set in front of them. It is because of this that she could not condemn a child, even a human one. They could reject the teachings of their people, and learn to become compassionate toward the other races.

With those thoughts swirling in her mind she picked up a quill and a piece of parchment. There was no law forbidding her owning a human, but she was not sure as to whether or not it would be condoned, but then again she did not care, in her heart she knew that she needed to do this.

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It was three days after Arthur had sent the letter and the Head of the Weasley was on edge. The goblins were known to not take kind to lateness, and normally even the most base of inquires would be handled within a day, so the wait was rather unsettling.

He was able to relax when an owl came flying through the window of the kitchen as he ate a light dinner. The owl was a large brown eagle owl, the kind that one would normally see carrying a missive from Gringotts, but the letter that adorned its leg lacked the seal that would identify it as such, but Arthur held some hope that it was just some type of error rather than a sign that his last gambit had failed miserably.

He took the letter from the leg of the large bird, but it did not leave meaning the person (goblin) that had sent the letter was awaiting a response from him, but he paid it no mind. He did not care about whether or not the goblins wanted a response, he was only concerned with learning whether or not they were responding to his proposal.

_Dear Mr. Weasley, _

_The letter that you sent has not been seen by the higher goblins._

I Arthur nearly choked at that first sentence. It decreased his chances of success drastically if the more politically powerful goblins did not endorse his move, but it could have been worse. The letter was not saying that his scheme had fallen through, so he decided to keep reading.

_I Rugem am in fact the only one that has seen it, and I have decided in my capacity as a goblin to offer you a deal. You may be wondering how I would be able to do something like that. Most wizards seem to think that things only happened in the goblin domain when it is sanctioned by those suit wearing prissy bastards, but in truth every goblin has some sort of power within this political machine, and one of those powers is a sizable pile of gold._

_ All goblins are given a monthly allowance of gold, even if they make more by working inside one of the banks, and most goblins do not so much as lay finger on it. We are truly a greedy people. And we would rather see our gold grow rather than see it shrink by a single ounce. But we are allowed to do with it whatever we please, so I plan to buy that child. However it cannot be done in the open for many reasons, not the least of which is the fact that the goblins of the bank would not approve of it, but once it is done there is nothing that anyone can do about it._

_ If you are still willing to sell your child simply touch him to this parchment, and say "you have a deal". When you do that the letter will act as a portkey, and you r son will be transported to my home, and a sum of two thousand galleons will arrive at your home. If you choose not to go through with it simply tell the owl to leave, and this issue will not be spoken of again. Please choose wisely._

_ Rugem_

Arthur stared at the parchment for a few minutes. He had not expected things to go the way they were. He had thought the goblins of the bank would be notified of what he had planned, but now he was dealing with a lone goblin. He had never heard of such a thing happening, but he was relieved that he did not have to deal with the goblin brass. The entire world would have found out about his deal with them had they been notified, and that would have lead to his family loosing even more face in the wizarding world, and that was something he wanted to avoid at all costs. It was hard enough trying to get by when he was regarded as an eccentric muggle loving nutcase, being seen as unable to provide for his family and dealing with goblins would leave him in even worse standing.

With a sigh he got up from the table with the letter in hand. Replying no to the deal had never truly been an option. He did not have a real choice, it was either he took the deal and his family was taken care of or he could reject it and sentence them to a life of squalor and poverty.

He walked up the stairs and into the master bedroom. Molly was in the bed holding little Ginny while Ron was asleep in his crib next to the bed. He looked on the scene with a tinge of sadness. Everything seemed so surreal, like some kind beautiful portrait of family. His wife looked nothing like the overworked housewife that he knew she was, but more like a beautiful queen, and his children seemed like angels, but he was going to bring the picturesque mood crashing into the depths of oblivion.

"Molly…" She looked up at him. She had not seen him come in, but she had been expecting him. The letter that he had gotten seemed to take up his attention though.

"Oh Arthur you've finally come up. I was beginning to wonder if tat letter was cursed.' The last part was said in joking manner. She was stressed with things going the way they were, so she tried to keep the mood light, however the joke had the opposite effect when her husband did not even so much as smile.

"What's wrong love?" Concern was thick in her voice. Her mind was running many of the worst case scenarios. It was not often that anyone sent a letter to the Weasley household, and more often than not the letters contained information that was better left dead and buried (or about the dead and buried in the case of her brothers).

"Molly they agreed." The concern vanished, and it was replaced by panic. She knew who her husband meant by they, but she had never expected them to agree to buying a human child let alone her child. She loved all of her children and the very thought that her husband would be willing to sell one of them had left her more than livid.

"You were serious." Her tone was low, and the accusation was obvious. It hurt him to see her act the way she was, but he understood why she did it. It was for the same reason that he had proposed the idea in the first place. He loved his family more than anything in the world, but he knew that they would be left with nothing and the situation would become even more woeful than it already was.

"Listen I know you love Ron, but this is something that we must do. " He did not let the hurt bleed into his voice. He was supposed to be the provider, so he had to be strong and powerful like a rock that any of his loved ones could depend upon.

"There is nothing that we must do but take care of our family Arthur!" Molly hissed back desperate to talk her husband out of his lunacy. "Ronald is out son! We're supposed to be taking care of him, not throwing him to those monsters!"

She had not yelled, nor had she gotten up, but it was as though she were in his face. The anger that was inside of hers was nearly tangible, and it was causing her eyes to glow a bright gold as her magic flooded her body.

Before she knew what had happened Arthur had his wand I hand, and with a flick of his wrist the door shut closed and locked itself, and with another a silencing charm blanketed the room. Arthur did not want the other children waking to the sight of their mother and father at each other's throats.

"Molly! I love my son as much as you, but this is about the survival of our entire family!" He was near pleading. She had to see things his way, or he would have to take a drastic approach.

"You've a fine way of showing it; selling him to those monsters who'll do Merlin knows what to him! I thought family was the thing that you held closest to you, but you're ready to throw it away just because we've fallen on hard times!"

"We haven't just fallen on hard times Molly. We are on the verge of losing everything. My position at the ministry it teetering on the edge as it is. Most of my colleagues think I'm so basket case, and others think my job should be eliminated, and the Ministry is inclined to agree with them. The only reason that I've been able to stay as long as I have is Dumbledore, and he can only do so much. If we were to not be able to afford to send one of our children to Hogwarts then the other would be taken from us."

Molly's eyes dimmed and her mouth formed into tight grim line. She knew that Bill and Charlie would be going to school soon, but she had not realized that they had been using the savings that they had made for the boys, but that was exactly what Arthur was implying. Molly knew that if those savings were gone then her sons would not be able to get a magical education, and if that happened then there would be trouble to follow.

"Why can't you just get another job?" She whispered, the desperateness returning full force, but Arthur shook his head.

"This is the only thing that I'm qualified to do, and anything else that I pursue would be borderline illegal, and that is something that we cannot afford."

Molly looked for a moment to try another plea, but as she looked at Arthur she knew that he was not lying. This was the only path that they could truly take, and it made her so angry, and scared. She did not want those creatures to have her son, but she could not take care of him. She had to take care of his brothers and sister, and it left her no time to provide for her like she should have.

Tears began to pool in her eyes as she looked over to the crib where her son lay asleep. Ginny had woken during their arguing, but the girl had made no noise. She only looked at them with her beautiful brown eyes.

Molly leaned Ginny over so that she could see her brother. The red haired little boy was laying on his back and fidgeting a little in his sleep. Ginny giggled at him.

"Look that's your brother Ron. I don't think you'll see him again, but remember him." Ginny reached out a chubby hand and touched Ron's forehead. Molly slowly pulled her from her brother and turned to Arthur.

"If you're going to do anything do it now. I am not comfortable with what we are doing, but I recognize that it has to be done." Her face was streaked with tears, but she did not sob. She was going to be strong.

Arthur walked over to the crib and leaned over to see his son. He thought for a moment of how cute the boy was. It ached so much to have to do what he was about to do. He kissed the boy of the cheek.

"I will always love you son." With one hand he unfurled the letter and touched it to Ron's hand. "You have a deal."

There was a slight whoosh of air, and a flash of light before Ron disappeared and a large sack took his place. The sack was overflowing with the gold of galleons, and Arthur was relieved that the deal had gone as planned, but he was also stricken by grief in that moment. He could have tried harder to do something to preserve his family, but he had let his youngest son go. He bit back a sob as the gravity of the situation hit him.

He turned to see Molly crying uncontrollably on the bed, and he threw himself at her catching her in a hug. He rubbed her back soothingly as he tried to keep himself under control.


	3. Chapter 3

Globins were a mystery to wizards. Not many knew anything of their habits beyond the obvious, such as their greed, love of gold, and their combat prowess. Most wizards thought they were nothing more than an ultraviolent race that wanted nothing more than to wage war and slaughter the innocent, but goblins were so much more than that (at least most were).

Goblin society was a caste system in which the ruling class was made up of the bankers, while the lower class goblins were forced to do the more menial tasks. The exceptions to this rule however were the dragon tamers who worked to train the dreaded dragons that guarded the caverns and vaults of Gringotts, and the shamans (or sages as the goblins liked to refer to them as) who delved deeply into the spiritual side of magic.

Rugem was a member of the lower cast of goblins, and her job was to work in one of the mail rooms. That entailed her collecting and reading letters for eight or even twelve hours a day, so it was a lucky occurrence that the child appeared while she was returning from her task in the mailroom.

She had heard stories of human children, but she had never truly had the chance to see one up close. The child was larger than a goblin of the same age by almost a full ten pounds, and quite a few inches. He even had hair which never grew in male goblins, and tended to start coming in when female goblins reached five years.

She stared at the child for a few moments longer before snapping her fingers. Moments later the owl that had delivered the letter that had allowed her to get the child flew into the cave. It was her personal owl, and as such it came whenever she had need of it, or whenever she wanted it to.

The owl regarded her for a moment before sticking its leg out. She smiled at the bird before producing a letter and securing it to the bird's leg. The owl flew off as soon as the letter was secure.

She turned back to the boy. He was an odd sight for her, but she could not help but think that he was cute. Most other races thought goblins were adverse to all things cute, but that was not the case. They simply tried to put up a tough front at all times, and having anyone realize that they had the same feelings for cute things as the other races did would only tarnish their reputation.

Rugem mused that the boy would never know of her thoughts of him. He would probably only see her as an oppressor, but that was fine with her if he did. All it would mean is that she tried to change his outlook, but things did not go as she had planned.

She was cut from her musings when he made a yawn. She looked on curiously as Ron opened his eyes. The blue orbs held a knowledge that she had not been expecting of a babe, but she should have known that wizard children matured quite a bit faster than goblin children.

The boy looked at her for a moment before he began to bawl. His cries reverberated from the walls of her cave, and she hastily waved her hand over the boy. Abruptly the crying was silenced, but the child did not stop the act, there was simply no sound coming from him.

Rugem had known that human babes were prone to fits of crying and hollering, but she had not expected that. She was lucky that she had gotten the silencing charm off in time, or his cries would have surely been heard by the other goblins that lived in caves close to her own, and that would have led to some questions that she would have rather not dealt with.

She did not know how to deal with a crying child (whether goblin or human), so she followed her instincts. She tentatively reached out and picked the boy up. He wiggled a bit in her arms, but her grip was soft but firm.

She adjusted him a bit so that he was cradled in her arms. She took a seat in one of the black chairs that dotted her cave. The boy seemed to calm. He had stopped crying, so Rugem lifted the silencing charm.

As she cradled him she could not help but feel something. She had never had children before (she was far too young by goblin standards), and because of this she could not tell that it was maternal instinct within her. The child was vulnerable, and she could protect it. Something about that just warmed her in ways that she had not known were possible.

As the boy relaxed into her she heard a light popping sound. When she looked up she was greeted by the sight of a house elf. She grinned. The things were expensive, but she could not take care of the boy on her own, and the house elf had been the easiest solution.

The elf looked at her for a moment before bowing. "I is Tiggy master." Its English was imperfect but that was to be expected of a house elf.

Rugem personally found the creatures called house elves to be repulsive. They were in her eyes a corruption of magic in the highest degree. Elves had once been majestic creatures, but their dealings with humans had been their undoing. They were reduced to nothing more than a servant race that lived to serve, and died if that chance was denied them, however despite their disgracefulness they were valuable assets.

"Tiggy please get me a bottle for Ronald." The elf nodded and snapped her fingers, and a bottle appeared in front of the goblin. Rugem took the bottle, and guided to Ron's lips.

The babe was not hesitant. He took to sucking as though he had been starved, and Rugem could tell that if left unchecked he could be a glutton (if the fact that he had finished his bottle in less than two minutes was any indication). That would not do, but Rugem was not concerned about it at that very moment. She had time to ensure he was raised properly.

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When Hermione had gone to her backyard to attempt the magic of Elder Scrolls for the first time she had gone without a game plan, and had gotten nowhere. She had not known what she wanted or how she wanted to accomplish it, and she had failed because of that.

The second time however she had decided to start just as the characters that she created started. She tried to use the flames spell to conjure a small orb of fire into her palm. In the beginning nothing happened, but Hermione just thought that she was not concentrating hard enough.

She had always been smarter than most children her age, and that intelligence had come with a maturity that none of her peers could match nor understand (though they never tried to do so), and this maturity changed the way that she thought about everything.

She normally regarded the world as an adult would. She followed the path that the authority figures around her set for her, and this meant that did everything in her power to excel where she could, leading to her excellent grades in school, and the desire to gain knowledge.

For an adult the things that Hermione did were a sign of maturity, and a sign that she was headed in the right direction, but to those her age she was nothing more than a teacher's pet who tried to wiggle her way into their good graces.

The alienation that she suffered from the other children was brutal, and relentless. She had nearly been taken from her primary school after only a month because the bullying was so horrific, but she soldiered on when she realized (after trying to befriend a girl that she had met one day at the local library) that no matter what she did she would never be able to fit in with her peers. It was a curse and a burden that she had to deal with.

When the Elder Scrolls landed in her lap a key came with it. This key unlocked something that Hermione had been suppressing for the better part of her entire life. It opened up her imagination and sense of wonder. It allowed her to experience a magic that many children took for granted.

Hermione because of her "all work and no play" approach to life had also lost something that helped adults later in life: the ability to distinguish between reality and fantasy. Although the rational side of her mind told her that there was no way that magic or anything else in the Elder Scrolls world could exist her imagination could not let it go.

Her dreams were filled with visions of a Khajiit version of herself adventuring through Tamirel. The sparks and flashes of spells followed her, and the sounds of battle reverberated through her at all times. To her the world of Nirm was only a blink away, so when her first attempt at the flames spell failed she was not deterred.

She closed her eyes and clenched her fist tighter. She searched within herself for something that would make her dreams come true (to assume the role of reality). For a while she sat there silently with her face contorted in utter concentration, and for just as long nothing happened, until she felt something.

What it was she could not say. It was like a feeling of warmth that spread through her body, but unlike a feeling she could feel a heaviness that came with it. Instinctively she latched onto the feeling (force) she felt her body tingle and hum with a power that she did not understand, but she pushed that from her mind and focused on willing the flames into existence.

She dared not open her eyes for fear that she would lose the force, but soon she felt a heat radiating from her hand, so she tentatively opened an eye, and was welcomed with the sight of flames dancing lazily in her palm. She barely held back a whoop of joy as she stared at the small conflagration.

The flames looked mesmerizing to her, and she could not help but feel awed by them. They were the result of her own doing… she had created them from nothing, and she had proven to herself that magic was in fact real.

For a moment she pondered the notion of showing her discovery to someone, but just as quickly she struck the thought from her mind. She did not know whether or not anyone else knew about the existence of magic, but she was not going to tell anyone who did not.

From her playthroughs of the Elder Scrolls games, and her dreams she knew that magic in the wrong hands was a dangerous weapon and she did not want to feel guilty about supplying people with such a powerful tool.

Suddenly she felt a wave of tiredness hit her. Instantly she willed the flames to dispersed, and they vanished from her sight. She let out a sigh of relief. She had forgotten that even low level spells taxed one's magicka reserves, and she was a novice that was casting her first spell, so it was even more taxing than it would be for someone that had been doing it for a long time.

Although she was tired a grin worked its way onto her face. She was going to learn to use the more powerful spells, and she was going to bring the world of Nirm to life in her own.

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When the early morning light reached the crevice that Harry had taken shelter in the boy immediately pulled himself from the roots of the tree. He knew that moving during the daylight would give him the best chance of surviving in the forest, but he could not afford to lose track of where the hallow tree was or he would have nowhere to come for refuge should he be unable to find a way out.

He thought of anything that would help him with remembering where he was, but to him most of the forest looked the same. He had to trudge through and just hope that he was out by nightfall.

He began walking in a random direction. He moved slowly so as to make as little noise as possible. He knew that there was little chance of a predator prowling the forest during the day, but that was not a chance that he was willing to take.

He walked for what seemed like hours, passing by several different types of trees and other foliage that he did not know anything about. The further he walked the more the situation seemed to darker. He was alone in the forest with no one looking for him; he had no food, no water, and no shelter.

The more he let himself focus on the hopeless circumstances the more they made themselves known. He had not eaten or drank anything in more than a day, so the hunger and thirst was slowing him down. Every move that he made was nearly a thousand times harder than it should have been, and he was near delirious. Every few steps he had to shake his head as he began to see doubles, and the feeling of nausea crashed over him. His legs wobbled uncontrollably, and he used all of his strength to continue forward.

When he finally felt as if he could go no more, and his body was ready to collapse he heard the rushing of water. The sound seemed to awaken something within him, and newfound energy came surging through his body.

With strength that he did not know that he possessed he pushed forward until her came to the banks of a river. The river was large with several large boulder-like rocks sitting in it, but it was slow moving, so he was in no danger of being carried away by rapids.

He fell to his knees and had to crawl to the edge of the water where he plunged his face in drinking greedily and reveling in the coolness of the crisp liquid. His thirst died, and his hunger reseeded (though he knew it would be back).

When he had drank his fill he pulled himself from the water and flopped onto his back. His stomach was full to bursting, and it ached a little, but for the moment (at least) he was content. He gazed at the sky and wondered to himself why his uncle would leave in the forest. He had never done anything that the man had not asked of him, but at every turn he was berated and degraded, and reminded of how worthless he was and how much of a failure he was bound to become.

It was sad, but the boy knew that there was something about him, that would never allow his Uncle to truly regard him as family, and that thing was within his Aunt too. He did not understand what that thing was, and he wished it was not there. If there was anything that he longed for it was family, yet instead he had been forced to grow up in a house where everyone hated him, and would like nothing more than for him to suffer.

_~Hey can you move?~ _The voice was soft and more like a whisper than anything else, but it made Harry jump. He looked around wildly trying to find the source of the voice, but all he could find was a snake, and to his knowledge no snake could talk, however snakes were dangerous, and the large brown snake that was easily longer than Harry was tall seemed to be even more so than ordinary ones, so Harry backed away.

The animal looked him for a moment, and then its tongue slithered out. _~Thanks~_ Harry was certain that he had not heard the hiss that he thought would come from the snake, but words.

He knew that there was no one else around, so that meant that there was no one to label him crazy if he tried to talk to the bloody reptile.

_~Hey were you talking to me?~_ the worlds would have normally come out as English, but because he was talking to a snake his magic forced the sentence out in parseltongue.

The snake stopped its slither along the bank and turned to look at the dark haired boy. _ ~You can speak~_

Now Harry was sure that he was not crazy, the snake had spoken to him, but how was that possible. He had never heard of a snake (or any animal) being able to talk to people, but this one was. His Uncle had always told him that magic was not real, but maybe the man was wrong, because magic seemed to be the only answer to the dilemma that Harry was experiencing.

_~Of course I speak~ _ Harry did not understand what the snake had meant when it had asked if he spoke, because it was common for people to speak. He did not realize that the snake was referring to the fact that Harry could speak to it.

_~Are you a wizard_?~ Harry nearly giggled at that question. His Aunt and Uncle would have no mention of magic, but a snake seemed to believe that it existed. That was more than enough to send him into a fit of giggles, but he did not laugh because the question struck a chord with him.

Obviously the only reason that he could speak to the snake was because of magic, but he could not picture himself a wizard. Wizards were powerful people who used wands and staffs to conjure the power of magic, but he had none of that. Besides if he had been a wizard then his parents would not have died in a car crash. Wizards were too strong to be killed like that.

_~No I'm not~ _The snake gave him an incredulous look (which was really only the raising of nonexistent eyebrows).

_~Then you must be an elf~_ In truth the snake hardly believed that. He had heard stories of elves, and the boy in front of him was nothing like those creatures, but he supposed there was a chance that it could be possible, besides magic could do nearly anything that one wanted.

Harry wanted to laugh at being called an elf, but he could not help but feel that maybe that was the answer to his questions. If he were an elf then it would explain the contempt that his Aunt and Uncle held for him; they hated all things unnatural (or unnormal if such a word existed), and an elf was the very definition of such.

They treated him like he was less than human, and they made him work like their own personal slave, and as he thought about it that was the same way that elves were treated in movies and shows he had seen (and books that had been read to him). They were hated by the humans and seen as nothing more than savages who needed to be taught humanity.

Harry did not want to be a part of a humanity that treated others as nothing more than animals. Other creatures had the same rights as the humans did, yet they tried to oppress them and treat them as mindless playthings.

_~Yes I am an elf.~ _The conviction in his voice was thick, and he had unknowingly tapped into his magic. There was a flash that nearly blinded the snake, but largely went unnoticed by Harry, and when the creature regained its eyesight there was still a small child standing in front of him, but where the child was once pale with messy hair and rounded ears the boy now had brown skin and pointed ears.

_~Well young elf I am Siersa~_


	4. Chapter 4

**_This is a first for me… an author's note: To the guest who pointed out that in the Harry Potter universe the golden trio are all born in 1979 and 1980 which would make computers very rare, and it would be unlikely that someone would have one in their home. Well call it artistic license; I have simply made a few changes to the world that would allow my story to come out in more easily._**

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As the years passed Hermione began to delve deeper into the magic of Elder Scrolls. At first she stuck to the basics of destruction honing skills with the elements of fire, spark, and frost, but as she became more proficient with the use of such skills she decided to branch off into new directions.

First she began to work on illusion magics. Illusion magics of the Elder Scrolls does not simply fool the enemy with cheap tricks it ensnares the mind. Most would think that illusion would be things like invisibility, and glamours that hide one's true face, but that is the least of what a made versed in the school of Illusion can do.

Illusion can cause enemies to flee from battle, attack one another, or make them completely calm; Illusion can also rally your allies giving them more stamina and greater will to fight.

Illusion was the art of influencing the mind, so it was with great consideration that Hermione decided to start practice with it on animals. She assumed that because illusion magics focused so heavily on the mind that trying to just cast them would not allow her the full understanding of how they functioned.

Her first subjects were squirrels; they were hard to catch physically, but the spells moved fast enough to pin them. The first spell that she started with was calm. This spell caused the target to be unable to flee for ten seconds. The first time that she tried to cast the spell it did not work, and instead made the animal even more skittish than it originally was.

The more she cast the spell the more she realized how the spells that made up the illusion school of magic worked. The magic was an energy that was able to rework the way that the mind of the target worked, but in order for a spell to work properly it is necessary for it to overcome the defenses in the brain.

Hermione learned that while most animal and people were not magical there was still a lingering amount of "magic" in the brain. This magic was either nearly non-existent or highly potent depending on the will of the creature or person. When the will is weak the magic of the spell is easily able to overpower the neurons in the brain forcing them to fire in specific patterns and compelling the being to act in a specific manner (in the example of the calm spell they would become tranquil).

However if the being was of a strong will then the magic in their brains would be potent; this meant that in order for the magic to take hold it would have to suppress the latent magic. This battle of magic would turn to a battle of wills, and the target would be able to fight back through sheer willpower alone. In those instances the only way that the spell would be able to take effect would be for the mage to have a stronger will than their victim.

Because Illusion amounted to a battle of wills Hermione practiced it with a fervor that she rarely used on anything but school work. It was taxing to use so much magicka all the time, but the benefits of having powerful illusion magic at her fingertips was just too much to pass up, nonetheless she did not neglect the other schools of magic. In addition to her near religious practice when it came to illusion she also began to learn alteration magic.

Alteration could be referred to as the bastard brother of Illusion. Whereas illusion created a false reality that many would be hard pressed to see through alteration changed the very nature of the world. The first spell that she learned of this school was the candle light spell that creates a hovering ball of light that illuminates an area for an hour.

While that spell might have seemed as little consequence it did get her the basics of the Alteration school. The spell she learned after was the oakflesh spell which turned her skin a dark gray and made it as hard as the bark of an oak tree.

That was the beauty of alteration. It could be used to make one harder to kill, or to allow one to survive when they should not have (for example the water breathing spell), and by mixing it with illusion and destruction spells it made a mage more than capable of going toe to toe with a barbarian rather than a sitting duck who would be felled by a single blow.

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One night Hermione dreamt once again of her Khajiit self running through the world of Tamirel. She longed to become like that. Although she was powerful in her own right she longed to feel that same freedom that the Khajiit in her dreams felt.

When Hermione awoke that morning and went to the bathroom she was shocked by what she saw in the mirror. Instead of a young girl with thick bushy brown hair and buck teeth there was a young looking brown furred Khajiit with large grey eyes, and perfect serrated teeth.

Hermione looked down at her hands. She had not expected something like this to happen. She had always thought that even though the magic was real there was no way that she could become that Khajiit that she had been in her dreams, but it was staring her in the face.

She grinned for a moment, but then she realized that her parents knew nothing about magic, and not only that, but they would most likely not believe her if she told them what was going one. They had always been no nonsense people, and she knew that any talk of magic would rub them the wrong way.

It was not that they hated the thought of it, but they had never believed in it. They were practical people who saw things in a logical way, and magical was anything but practical or logical.

Not knowing what to do Hermione left the bathroom and went back to her room. Her parents were awake and they were waiting for her to go downstairs to see them, but she knew she could not. She opened her bedroom window and cast a quick invisibility spell on herself before bounding out into the fresh morning air.

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Harry Potter upon his discovery of his elvish blood decided that he would be everything that an elf was, but he quickly registered a problem with this line of thought: he was an elf, but he had no bow and he did not know how to create one.

That was a big problem for him because unlike Siersa who was stealthy and easily able to sneak up on prey Harry was very loud and effortlessly spotted by anything in the forest. A bow would help him to catch prey (seeing as he had no idea what plants were edible in the forest), and it would allow him some form of protection against predators.

He was stumped as to how he was to protect himself in the wilderness of the forest, but that answer came to him just as his ancestry did: magic. While he was lamenting the fact that he could not be a true elf due to his lack of a bow his magic swirled around him, and he was granted a bow.

The boy was purple, and spectral in nature. He could very near see through it, and it also had a quiver with an unlimited number of arrows. It was perfect for him as it allowed him to become familiar with the weapon (he had never seen a real bow and most certainly had not fired one). The bow disappeared when he put it down for any reason, but after some while he became proficient at calling it whenever it was needed.

For years it was his only companion alongside Siersa in the forest, but that was until one day as he was lying down to avoid the heat of the day a twig cracked. The cracking of the twig was easily discerned by his enhanced senses as something that was not natural to the forest.

He threw his hand up, and for a moment it was encased in a dark purple light before his bow appeared in his hand. He had never had to use the boy for anything but hunting and protecting himself against animals, but he knew that this would change things.

He took a deep breath and caught a scent that he was unfamiliar with. Without a moment of hesitation he turned and fired an arrow in that direction. There was a flash of light, and the arrow landed with a thunk. When the flash ended he could see some type of cat like humanoid looking directly at him.

One of the creature's hands held an orb of flames that danced lazily, and the other was enveloped in an ethereal glow. They beast's eyes were alight with the same magic, and he knew that this would be a battle that changed things for him.


	5. Chapter 5

Ronald Weasley was nothing if not a marvel; he was a human that was raised by goblins, creatures that wizards took for savages that wanted nothing more than to kill and bath in blood, but he had not been killed by the creatures, yet his life could not be called great.

Rugem had done her best to keep the boy's presence from the higher ranking goblins from the moment that she had gotten him, but what she did not know was that they had known about him from the moment that he had been brought to the sovereignty of goblin soil by that fateful portkey. The reason that they had not taken the boy from her and killed him was simple: they had wanted to see how a human raised by a goblin would fare in the world.

There had been cases of goblins owning humans before, but that mostly ended in the human being killed and the goblin sometimes eating them, and other similar circumstances where there were a larger number of enslaved humans ended with trading the slaves for goblins that the humans had captured.

Ragnarok the King of the Sovereign Goblin Nation of Endour (Gringotts) had taken a personal look into the matter. The moment that the child had become known to him and his emissaries he took swift action by having his court mages set monitoring spells in Rugem's home.

He was not fond of the idea of using magic to spy on his own people, but it was a necessity. Goblins were a magical species, but they were unlike the other magicals. They did not embrace the use of magic as others did.

They would use enchanted weapons, and arcane smithing techniques, but they strayed away from using magic itself in combat. The reason being they were warriors, and saw the use of magic in battle as being cowardly. To them there was no honor in killing someone with the killing curse or any other blasted magic.

That was why Ragnarok was watching the boy. He knew that the lad was the child of a mage, and as such he understood that the boy had the potential to be just like them, and although the child was a human he was being raised with the ideals of a goblin, so on the eve of the second year that the boy had been in his lands Ragnarok paid Rugem and the child a visit.

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Rugem was sitting in one of her chairs with Ron on her lap. She was reading a story book to him. The book was "Tales of the Beedle and the Bard". Tiggy had gotten it when Ron told her that he wanted a bedtime story. The story he liked the most from the book was the Tale of Three Brothers.

As she was reading the story to him she was not paying attention to her surroundings, and she nearly jumped in fright when she heard someone clearing their throat. When she looked up from the pages of the book she was shocked to see King Ragnarok. The goblin was short with thick black hair, and dark green skin. His eyes seemed to hold an air of absolute authority, and the suit he wore brought that aura to full force.

She dropped the book to the floor and flung herself to the ground. Ron not knowing what was going on copied his "mother". Ragnarok smiled exposing his sharp teeth (though neither could see them).

"You may rise Rugem." The king's voice was deep and regal, but it held none of the anger that she would have expected from him.

She rose slowly from the floor, but she kept her head down not daring to look into the green eyes of her liege. "M-my king… To w-what do I owe this h-honor?" the shakiness in her voice, and the sleight pause let Ragnarok know that she was expecting punishment.

"Calm child I am not here to punish you." She seemed to visibly relax at that, but there was still some stiffness in her.

He took a finger and used it to lift her chin so that his eyes met hers. She fought back the urge to flinch away from the touch, but that would likely incur the punishment that she was somehow avoiding. "I'm not going to punish you, but this cannot go on Rugem."

He let her go and turned around walking to a chair and taking a seat. Ron finally rose and hid behind his mother's leg.

"My lord please allow me to explain-"Ragnarok raised a hand, and she fell silent. His authority was absolute, and she knew that there was nothing that she could say or do that would change his perspective on the situation. She only hoped that he would not have the boy killed.

"That boy is the child of a wizard and a witch. You know the stance that we take on magic, and what you have done is unacceptable. A wizard running around is not something that we can take lightly, and an untrained one is even more dangerous." He paused and looked at the boy for a moment.

The child's red hair and freckles made him seem almost adorable in a sense, but the political ramifications of an untrained wizard was not something that cuteness could avoid.

"The boy will be taken to the forges during the day, and by night he will be taken by the mages to learn of his magics."

Rugem was stunned by those rulings. She had thought that they would surely kill Ron, but he was being made into a weapon. She was happy that he was not to die, but she did not want to lose the connection that she had to him. "Your majesty will I ever see him again?"

The King looked at her for a moment and she could have sworn that he was starring through her very soul. It was uncomfortable, but she knew that it was the power of the one that was king. "Perhaps in due time."

The king snapped his fingers, and a short stout goblin in thick armor appeared and Rugem stepped aside so that Ron was no longer hiding behind her leg. The goblin scooped the boy into his arms and he turned to rush behind the king's retreating back.

As she watched the king and his guard leave she could barely hold back the tears. She had only had the boy for two years, but she could not deny that she had loved him from the moment that she took him into her arms.

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The forges that the goblins maintained were never seen by the eyes of a wizard until the day that Ron first laid eyes on them. There were nearly a thousand of them all contained in a single huge cyclopean cavern system.

Each of the forges was massive being nearly fifty meters long, thirty meters wide, and twenty high. They were not made up of simple brick and mortar nor metal, but a thick black stone that was harder than anything that a human could hope to comprehend.

The forges were never allowed to go cold, and were kept heated by runes that were carved into the walls of each one. The runes drew magical energy from the cave which had an ethereal blue glow that came from the lines of visible energy that permeated its walls.

Enormous bellows ensured that the heat of the flames was regulated moving in tuned to the currents of the flames and providing a gust of air only when needed. The heat was nearly stifling and Ron had nearly died from heat stroke when he had first started his work there, but he had been forced to continue.

For the goblins surviving the forges was a test. No creature, not even the fire breathing dragons were naturally immune to the heat that the cave was forced to contain. Temperatures reached 43 degrees centigrade (110 degrees fahrenheit) on a cool day, and when the heat of the forges was at its greatest temperatures soared to nearly 54 degrees centigrade (130 degrees fahrenheit), and this was kept from getting any higher die to magical winds that were created by shamans to keep the air circulated and lessen the heat by a considerable degree (20-30 degrees).

The workers that handled the forges were given breaks every hour, but the heat was stifling and deadly, and a single hour could very well be called a death sentence, and for Ron it almost was that. Rugem had not known the horrors of the forges. Most goblins were told that the forges were a prestigious position for those who were to make something of themselves. The truth however was that the forges were a test to weed out those who were too weak to become warriors or adventurers (though there had been no goblin adventurers in nearly a millennia).

The reasoning behind Ragnarok forcing Ron to work in the forges was quite simple. He wanted to see how powerful a wizard was. The goblins and wizards had not gone to war with one another since 1722 during the last goblin rebellion, and because of that the goblins knew nothing of their capabilities.

They did have spies in the wizarding world, but the more powerful of their adversaries made a point to hide what they could do, and wizards were notorious at keeping more powerful magics out of the public eye or outlawing them and destroying any mention of how to perform them.

To the untrained eye the culmination of the wizard's power were the three unforgivable curses which were unblockable, and fairly visible through their culture due to the war between the "Dark Lord" (Most magical creatures would scoff at that title being given to an upstart) Voldemort and his Death Eaters, and Albus Dumbledore and the Light.

With having Ron work at the forges they had a chance to discern more about the wizards. If he survived his ordeal he would be able to yield more information about the humans, and if he died he would only prove that the wizards were weak and had made no advancements.

Ron survived the forges, but it was not due to anything that had to do with being a wizard explicitly, but his connection to magic. Like Hermione and Harry before him his magic was unbound and ready to respond to him in the way that was most beneficial to him and it did.

Although there was no sunlight in the cavern that they worked in the heat of the forges caused radiation due to the magic that is used to keep the fire burning. Magic is an energy which can do anything, and because magical people are born with it they have an increased resistance to the radiation that it causes, but in high enough doses even magical people can succumb to DNA damage caused by irradiation from magic, so in order to combat this effect Ron's magic turned his skin a darker brown to help fight off the effects of the radiation (of course the goblins had no problem with it because they had dark skin already).

In addition to darkening his skin his magic increased his rate of sweat production so that he could stay cooler, and at the same time it increased his production of melatonin and vitamin D so that he would not suffer from deficiencies, and the problems that arose from that.

His hair had also been darkened and it became a bit more fluffy. This way when the heat got intense his hair could release more of the heat in his body when the winds swept through the caverns. Still even with these advantages it was tough going in the caverns for the boy. He had very little strength to speak of when he had first been conscripted into the work.

He was forced to haul large brick shaped packs of compounded wood and organic matter that was fed into the fires so that they would turn specific colors. The colors that the flames changed would change the properties of the metal that was being heated in the forge.

The goblins had learned this technique when they had still been a forest people, and were first experimenting with rocks and ore. They had been skilled alchemists that had learned to use the properties of plants (even mundane ones) and items to create prolific potions and elixirs that greatly increased their combat performance.

When they had begun their work with metals they had assumed that the same rules applied to metals, and they were right. Smithing and smelting metals could be enhanced with the addition of certain ingredients to create impressions of magic that changed how the metal acted. This was as far into the art of enchanting as they had gotten. They had never learned to impress spells into the works, and they thought it was an undeniable impossibility.

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Ron's nights were spent in the company of the shamans and mages who attempted to teach him the concept of goblin magics, but he never had any luck with it.

Goblins channeled their magic into artifacts that were created through their arcane smithing methods. The artifact differed from goblin to goblin, but each goblin had their artifact bound to them through a blood ritual. An ax had been bound to Ron, but he could not channel anything into it, and was deemed a failure after only a year. This enraged Ragnarok, and he forced Ron to spend his days and nights within the forges for three years.

Though the failure had been unexpected to the goblins it was inevitable to anyone who knew the truth concerning magic. Ron's magic like that of Hermione and Harry was not bound to a focus before they began to use it in an active (or in Ron's case intensely passive) manner, and because of this their magic was more connected to them.

Focuses were used in the beginning to embolden the connection that the wizard or witch had to their magic. It is due to this that witches and wizards who have an innate connection to their magic reject the focus and are unable to use it.

If they are able to use the focus it diminishes their power by a considerable amount. This decrease in power makes them undesirable to the witch and wizard and they instinctively try to avoid using it, which is what happened to Ron, and though the goblins did not know that by sending him back into the heat of the forges they were forging his magic into an even more powerful weapon.

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After his four years in the forges ended Ron was given another task. Ragnarok was reluctant to allow him out of the hell of the furnaces, but he could not send the boy back due to the political ramifications it would create. The boy had survived his punishment, and there was nothing more that could be done to him, so he was allowed to begin to learn the art of smithing.

He was a natural when it came to working the metal, and once again it was his magic at work. While his magic helped him to absorb the radiation the forges it also absorbed the magic that was released when the ingredients were added to the flame. This caused him to be able to "feel" how the metal should be worked, and after a year and a half he became bored of the work.

He was able to make any kind of armor at a satisfactory (expert) level, but there was something missing that he could not place, until one day he did something that had never been done before. He remembered the first few spells that the shaman had attempted to teach him.

The first electrocuted something, and the second burned things. Ron did not know where the idea came from, but as he was forging a sword he thought about the burn spell and as he did he hammered. He could feel him magic slowly trickling from him to the sword. When he had finished crafting the weapon he picked it up and tested it on a training dummy. Not only was the wooded enemy cut in half, but the halves burst into flame.

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Hermione stared at the creature that had shot her with the arrow. She recognized it as a male wood elf, but she did not know what one was doing in the forest not too far from her home (not her home anymore), but she quickly stopped worrying about why he was there and began to focus on the deadliness of the arrows; she would have died had she not cast the ironflesh spell in time.

The elf fired another arrow. She dodged to the side and flung the fireball that she had conjured. The elf nimbly jumped from the branch that he was on and did a flip before landing on another branch to avoid the ensuing explosion, though he found the fireball had been a distraction. He scowled knowing that the cat creature was once again invisible. He focused his magic to his eyes, and the world turned a bit hazy, but he could see the pink outline of the beast.

He had perfected the ability he liked to call detect when he was hunting. He had gotten frustrated by his inability to capture any prey, and he had tried to sense them using magic, and it had been the result.

Hermione grit her teeth when she saw the elf shoot another arrow in her direction. She raised her hand and the arrow stopped mid-motion before turning around and flying at the archer. He once again jumped away, but instead of landing on another branch he landed on the ground and rolled before sprinting at her; his bow was gone and in its place was a purple dagger.

She blocked the slash that came with her forearm. It was still under the effect of the ironflesh, but she could feel the weapon biting into her skin. She pushed her arm forward throwing him off balance. Hermione realized that she was in a bad position at the moment, so she decided to switch tactics.

She willed lightning to arc between her fingers, and she threw the orb that was created as a result. Because she was using a spark spell its travel speed was instantaneous giving Harry no time to dodge it and electricity harshly coursed through his body. It was not enough to kill him, but it did begin to eat away at his magic forcing his dagger to disappear.

He fell to the ground twitching. Every muscle in his body spasming uncontrollably, but he forced his lips to work properly and whistled. An instant later there was a rumble and Hermione was swatted by the tail of a large brown snake: Siersa.

Over the years that Siersa had met Harry she had bound herself to him becoming his familiar. Because of this she had begun to feed on his magic slowly becoming more powerful. Where she had once been only five meters longand half a meter wide she was at that moment ten meters in length and three meters wide.

The hit from the snake sent the Khajiit reeling and she hit a tree knocking the breath from her lungs. Harry had recovered from the lightning bolt. He threw his hand up and a golden light settled above him. He could feel his muscle spasms stop and his wounds heal.

He did not know what was with the creature before him, but he was interested in it. It was not human like him, and it knew magic. That had to mean something. "What are you?"

His voice was loud enough that Hermione registered it. "Do you truly not know elf?" She radiating a haughtiness that she did not truly feel.

She did not attack, and neither did he. If he was willing to talk then she would be willing too. They had very near killed each other, and she did not like the chances with the giant snake staring her down.

"I don't. I am the only elf that I know, so forgive me if I am not as knowledgeable as the ones that you may have met." He had relaxed a bit, but he was ready to attack at a moment's notice.

She was surprised that a wood elf would know nothing of the Khajiit, but she would take this as an advantage. He was interested in her, and that made him more malleable. "I'm Khajiit."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "That's your name?"

Hermione shook her head. "No that's my race. I my name is Hermione."

"Well I'm Harry." He let his guard down. Siersa would take care of the Khajiit if needed. "I'm sorry for attacking you, but you trespassed into my forest, and I don't like trespassers."

"I apologize also, but I didn't know this was your forest. I'll leave if that would make things better."

"That would be acceptable." Hermione nodded, and she once again became invisible. Harry had his detect active so he could see her as she retreated away from him.

He let out a sigh as she left. She was dangerous and so was he, but he did not want to have to kill her and he did not want to die. It was better for both of them that they left one another alone, besides while she was a strange creature she proved that there were other creatures out there that were capable of magic. He liked the thought of that because it meant that there might be more elves out there that he would be able to meet one day, but for now he was content to live within his forest.


	6. Chapter 6

Albus Dumbledore was not the least bit pleased. He was waiting until the end of June so that the Hogwarts letters would be sent out. Harry Potter had been missing since the summer of 1985 when he had been five. He knew that the oaf of a man Vernon Dursely had done something to the boy but the man had an iron will that had been molded during his time in the muggle armies, and as a result he had been resistance to the mind magics. Anything more would have killed him rather than extract the information.

He knew that the boy was alive because the life sphere that he had connected to the boy still held its silver glow, and he was inclined to believe that the life sphere was right, as life spheres were created by taking a sample of blood from the intended person to be monitored. Of course had this not been the case then it would no longer have functioned, because although Harry was no longer human he still shared the blood that he had before (at least type wise).

It was an understatement to say that Dumbledore was worried about the boy, but he was even more worried about the light's survival. He was the chosen one, and he had to survive so that he could fulfill his destiny.

He had placed the boy with the Dursleys because he had known that the protection of family would keep the boy safe from any wizard with untoward intentions, but he had not thought that the muggles would be willing to leave their own flesh and blood to die like that. It was mind-boggling, and sometimes he wondered if fighting against his lover all those years ago had been the right thing to do, but that was the past. Now he had to find the boy, and the Hogwarts letters would be the only way to do so.

He felt his magic move, and he knew that someone was coming to his office. He looked up and was surprised to see Severus and Minerva walking together. He gave them each a smile.

"Good morning Minerva Severus, would either of you like a lemon drop?" Severus and Minerva both shook their heads.

Severus was in his usual sour mood. It seemed that his face was almost always plastered with a scowl that was becoming more a part of him than even the billowing robes. Minerva on the other hand was had her mouth set in a straight line giving her face a stern look.

"Have you found the whereabouts of the Potter brat yet Albus?" To most it would seem as if the potions master had very little respect for the headmaster, but if that was the case he would have referred to him as headmaster rather than the familiar Albus, but that was hardly important. What was import was that Albus could clearly see through the man's abrasive attitude. He was worried for the child in his own way. The debt to James and his love of Lily still hung heavy on his soul.

"Yes I'm wondering the same Albus. It's been years and still you have nothing to show for your work." Minerva had always been a to the point person, it was a product of her Scottish roots. Because of that he had been receiving hell from her since the beginning of the entire debacle. She had warned him that the Dursleys were the worst kind of muggles, but he had not listened and he was paying the price, but she failed to realize that he like all men had weaknesses.

One of those weaknesses was his optimism. He tried at all turns to look for the good in all people, and he was reluctant to judge them. People had reasons for the things they did, and while actions could be despicable the reasoning behind those action were often well thought out and generally good in nature; however "the road to hell is paved with good intentions".

"I am afraid that I have found nothing. It seems that we will have to wait until his letter is sent out for him to be introduced to our world." Dumbledore resisted the urge to hide when Minerva's face tightened, and Serverus' eyes narrowed slightly.

They were both angry, but for different reasons: Minerva wanted to see the child of her favorite student James Potter (she did like Lily, but she did not care for her as Flitwick had because the girl was only slightly above average at transfiguration); the boy was bound to be a Gryffindor, and she would be more than delighted to have him in her house, but the machinations of Dumbledore could very well turn that vision into nothing more than a dream.

She unlike the others in the wizarding world of Britain understood that Albus was a mortal like them all. He had been a fixture of their society for more than a century, and that was all well and good, but sometimes the next generation had to carry the torch and the old guard had to retire. He was getting old and complacent, and he was not making the best choices, but no one could see that. They could not see the man behind the titles: Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Chief of the Wizengamot, and Headmaster of Hogwarts. While he did not lead their government he permeated every aspect of it, and his word had become law to anyone with half a brain to believe that.

Severus' anger lent itself to many of the things that Minerva worried over, yet his was more directed at Albus at the same time. The aging leader of the light was the only one who knew the truth of his connection with the Potters, yet he failed to understand it.

Albus simply thought that it was his love of Lily that drove him and the debt to James, but there was more to him than that. When he had uttered to Lily those words that she had hated with every fiber of her being he had known that she would not be likely forgive him, and he began to loath himself.

The anger that festered within him boiled over and he lashed out. Lily had attempted to forgive him, but he had not taken that mercy from her. He had felt that he deserved nothing more than to suffer and wallow in his own misery, but eventually he saw the light of things. However the darkness that he had been surrounding himself in had attracted the likes of Voldemort's ilk.

He had tried to distance himself from the Death Eaters, but liberal threats of death, and the deaths of people whom he had known kept him from doing so. Because he knew that escape was nearly impossible he began to filter information to Lily. He knew that she was fighting a war against the Dark Lord, and she would need any help that she could get.

As for James… Severus had forgiven him for the bullying he had been subjected to when they were younger, because unlike Sirius James had grown up (Remus became a recluse and was never forgiven because he refused to approach the situation like a man and a true Gryffindor). The life debt that he owed the other man was of no consequences they had become allies, and they fought with one another.

Snape did blame himself for their deaths, but it more because he had been weak at the time rather than loyal to the Dark Lord: Severus had become a master Occlumens, but during the war he had been nowhere near that level… he had not even heard of such magics before, and that had cost him. He had never planned to tell the prophecy to Voldemort, but the memory had been on the surface of his mind, and the man had taken it from him the moment that he had reported in.

The only reason that he had avoided death was due to the fact that he had claimed he was reporting to tell the Dark Lord of the prophecy, but he had been severely punished for not saying anything sooner. It crushed his heart to know that the woman that he loved more than the world and the person that had saved him from death were targets of the Dark Lord, so he had gone to Dumbledore.

In truth he had never thought much of the man and was reluctant to have any dealings with him, but the Dark Lord feared him, and that was all that mattered, yet it had been a mistake all those years ago to speak with the man.

The assurances that Albus had given him were nothing, and he had lost two of the most important people in his life. To make matters worse following the defeat (he knew that the man –if he could be called such- was not truly dead) of the Dark Lord he had been forced to act as some sort of demented attack dog trying to ensure that the future of the wizarding world was not corrupted by the evils of the Slytherins. His main task was to cause the other houses to distrust the house of Slytherin, because as Albus and Hagrid put it "not any witch or wizard that goes bad doesn't come from Slytherin." that was a deplorable idea, but most of the sheep believed it because it came from the mouth of their shepherd.

"Albus you can't just be content with sitting on you haunches and waiting for the boy to revel himself!" Minerva said in a hiss.

"I concur headmaster. Is there no other way for this to be done?" Severus was smooth but Dumbledore could nearly feel the concealed fury that swirled within the man.

"I assure I have exhausted all other methods of detection for the boy. There is nothing else that we can do. I apologize, but that is simply the way that things are at the moment."

Minerva barely restrained herself from drawing her wand and attacking the man; instead she turned and stomped away. The second that she left Snape's entire demeanor changed. He was livid, and the fire within his coal black eyes expressed it better than anything else ever could.

"You assured me that the boy was safe!" He pointed a finger accusingly at Albus. The other man bristled under this.

"I did say that Severus, but I did not think that anyone could do something like that to their own family. Love is a powerful tool and there are few that are willing to cast it aside in favor of hatred."

The dark haired man grit his teeth. "I told you that they hated Lily, and Minerva told you about their behaviors after watching them, but you disregard everything we say because you know what is for the greater good! Well to hell with that greater good. How much is a child's life worth to you… nothing?"

While Severus was quite good at riling up students and occasionally getting under Minerva's skin it was rare that he had that effect on Albus, but this time he did.

"What is he worth to you Severus?" the headmaster's voice was low and dangerous. "Is he not the son of James? The boy that we both know you hate with every fiber of your being, or is he a perverse reminder of that "love" that you held for Lily. To me he is our savior, and sometimes bad things happen to good people. That is an unavoidable consequence of life, and there is nothing that can be done about that. You wish we could change the past but it is as it is. Being angry with me will solve nothing."

The potions master knew the old man was right, but the anger did not leave him. He thought he understood, he thought he held all the cards, and the picture was clear, but that could not have been even further from the truth, but that was not something that Snape would tell the man.

Snape turned and swept out of the room leaving the questions unanswered. He knew what the boy meant to him, but that was not something for the headmaster to know. It was his only secret he had left, and he would be damned if it was revealed.

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With the school year slowly approaching Arthur Weasley could not help but think of what could have been. This would have been the year that his son Ron would start attending Hogwarts for the first year, but he had taken that away from the boy by selling him to the goblins.

He had thought at the time that he was making the best decision, but that was not the case. Bill and Charlie (and Percy to a certain extent) who had been old enough to know about what had happened hated the children.

Charlie had had a promising career as a professional Quidditch player, but he had sacrificed that to go and be a dragon tamer in Romania, and Bill had decided to become a curse breaker for the goblins so that he could at least try to learn more about his lost brother (that was to no avail as the goblins denied knowing anything about the boy).

The other families in the area had also grown curious as to what had happened to their youngest boy, and where they had gotten their sudden fortune, but they never learned anything from the older Weasleys and the younger ones dared not say anything.

The money that they had received as payment had gone a long way to getting the things that they needed for their other children, but it had not filled the hole in their hearts.

The hardest hit by the loss of her brother was Ginny. While the twins and been afraid that they would be sold too, and Percy subtly (at least for a child ) distanced himself from his parents Ginny had been the model child, yet she was prone to fits. These fits occurred anytime she was alone with her parents. The fits would leave her wailing for her brother, and her magic would flicker uncontrollably.

Most would think that she should not have remembered Ron, and normally they would have been right, but when she had been allowed to touch Ron before he had been whisked away her magic had imprinted upon him, and the memory was burned into her mind.

Ron was a part of her in a way, and not having him with her was slowly driving her insane, but there was nothing that could be done about that, unless they found Ron. That was hardly easy as the goblins denied his very existence.

It was maddening for parents (especially loving parents like Molly and Arthur) to have to deal with a broken daughter and sons who wanted nothing to do with them, but they understood why their children were the way that they were.

If your parents were willing to sell one of you what is there to tell you that they would not sell you. That was the fear the plagued Fred, George, and Percy. For Bill and Charlie the feeling was a bit different. They felt disgust for their parents.

When they were younger they had known they were poor, but they had gotten by on the love of family, but their mother and father had abandoned this notion for money. There had been no reason for them to sell Ron, but they had wanted the easy way out of the situation.

There was not a night that Molly did not cry herself to sleep with thoughts of what could have been if they had only persevered. All the money in the world could do nothing for the whole that had made itself know in her heart. She blamed herself for being unable to convince Arthur that it was wrong.

Arthur blamed himself for not trying harder to find another way. He had not thought about the family truly, but their status. He had not wanted his family to be stuck under the stigmas that came with poverty. If he had been stronger then he would have been able to do something, but he had been weak and his family had paid for that weakness.


	7. Chapter 7

Dan and Emma Granger had never been the same following the disappearance of their daughter Hermione. It had seemed like things were going great for the couple: they had been married for seven years, they were both successful dentists, and they had just opened their own practice, but then things were sent crashing to the ground when they went to check up on Hermione one morning.

Normally the girl never missed breakfast. She loved to spend time with her parents, and that was something that they loved about her. It was not often that children wanted to be near their parents all the time, and to some it may have seemed that the girl was overly needy. Dan and Emma however saw it as more opportunity to bond, and Hermione never seemed to mind in the least.

So it was just a slight but unsettling when the girl did not come down the stairs one morning. At first they simply thought she had slept in, but after over an hour passed from their usual breakfast time they began to worry. It was rare that she would miss breakfast, and one of the few times that they could remember was when she had been bedridden with the flu.

When the two parents ventured up the stairs Emma let out a harrowing scream when she saw the window open and her daughter missing. It had not seemed as though someone had broken in (things were in perfect order), but in their minds there was no reason that their daughter would leave of her own free will. They took the only logical option that presented itself and called the police.

An officer had come to their home less than thirty minutes later to begin an investigation. He found there was no evidence of foul play, but that did not sit well with him or Dan and Emma, yet there was nothing more that they could go on.

After the office had filed his report they organized a search party that went looking for the girl. They felt that she could not have gotten far on her own (as they were sure it was only her due to the lack of evidence to indicate otherwise) as it had not been that long since she had gone missing.

The search party search in a twenty mile radius, but after more than a month they came up empty handed. It had been disheartening when the couple was told that the search was called off. Emma had cried for days, and Dan had thrown himself into work.

After two years had passed many had assumed that Hermione was dead, and as much as the Grangers would loath to admit it they were of like mind. There had been few leads on the girl, and every sighting turned out to be a false alarm. For them it was easier to say that she was in a better place, but that changed one day when Emma got a phone call.

She had been pulling up into the driveway of their home when her cell phone rang. She had gotten the thing because her husband wanted to be able to keep in touch with her at all times (in the back of her mind she knew that he did not want to lose her like they lost their daughter).

"Hello?" she knew that not many people had her number, so she was expecting someone that she talked to regularly.

"Mrs. Granger this is Office Wadely. Your daughter was found recently. We've already taken her statement, and will be releasing her into your custody."

Emma nearly dropped the phone at that. She had not thought that she would ever see her daughter again. Tears began to roll down her face, and she choked back sobs. She just could not believe that after two years their daughter was going to be coming home. She vaguely heard the officer say more, but she tuned it out. She just wanted to see her daughter

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Hermione was not quite feeling at her best. Firstly she was about to see her mother after more than two years of absence and secondly she was not in her Khajiit form. She might have been able to get over seeing her parents for the first time in a long while, but not having fur was something that was killing her. She was glad that it was not permanent, and it allowed her more freedom than she would have had otherwise.

She flexed her had a bit to see how it moved. Her magic had been a godsend, as it allowed her to freely change between Khajiit and human. The first time that she had made the transformation had been during the night. She was having nightmares about her parents. She saw them grieving over her perceived loss, and she even saw her father killing himself.

The dreams had made her feel guilty about leaving them, but she had reasoned with herself that it was the only way that things could have played out. They would not have understood her because she as not like them. Her magic had given her a chance at reconciling with them by forcing her to change.

When she had awoken from her sleep in her human form she had been distraught fearing that she had lost her Khajiit form, but that was proven wrong when she transformed back. She had been overjoyed when after practice she could move between the forms with ease, though being human was awkward for her as she had grown use to the body of a Khajiit; however she knew that she would have to once again become acquainted with her old body.

Hermione looked out of the window of the police cruiser that she was riding in, and smiled as she saw her parents' house. It seemed that things had not changed much in those few years, as the house looked the same as the day that she had left it.

Her mother was standing out in the driveway with tears streaming down her face. The older brown haired woman looked so sad that Hermione could not hold back the sobs that suddenly racked her. When the car came to a stop she flung the door open and rushed her mother jumping into the woman's arms.

Emma hugged her and kissed her on the head all the while whispering about how glad she was that the girl was safe. The officer could only look on with a smile. He like many others had thought the Granger girl was dead, but she had wondered into their station, and he was proud to say that she was home safe.

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Within the halls of Endour underneath the Goblin Bank of Grinngots Ronald Weasley stood before the King Ragnarok. The goblin who had once regarded the boy as nothing more than a waste of space following his inability to learn the goblin art of magic now regarded him as nothing more than a danger.

"Raccan…" Ron winced at his goblin name that had been given to him by Rugem when he had first been given to her. "You are herby charged with murder, and illegal use of soul magics. How do you plead?"

In truth there was no reason that they should have given him a trail, and it truly was not a trail. They had decided upon his guilt from the moment that he had appeared before the king; they had seen him commit his crimes.

The enchantment that only Raccan was able to create were of great power, but the goblins found that after prolonged used they weakened and dissipated. Raccan could not find the reason for this as whenever he looked at the enchanted item he found that the enchantment was still there.

Due to the "faultiness" of the enchantments many goblins began to abandon the use of them instead returning to the older less useful enchanted items. It filled Ragnarok with joy to see the upstart human fail.

Raccan could not take the failure and began to look for a way to keep the enchantments powered. At first he had tried to overlay enchantments, but he found that only one enchantment could be applied to one item. He had nearly given up until one day he fell into an exhaustion induced sleep from overworking his magical core.

As he slept he began to have visions about enchanting. Firstly he saw someone enchanting an item over some sort of table that had been carved with all kinds of runes and glowed fiercely with magic, then saw the same person touching some kind of gem to an enchanted sword that had stopped working. The sword glowed and the gem broke, yet the enchantment began to work again.

He awoke from that sleep and scoured all sources that he could looking for the origin of the gem in his dream, but he could find nothing about it, that it until another dream. This time he saw the world from the mysterious person's point of view. He could feel everything, and was shocked when he cast some spell on a wolf before killing it.

The spell did not seem to do anything but outline the target in black, but when the wolf died he watched in shock as its soul visibly left its body and flew into the gem. Upon returning to the waking world he knew the he could cast the spell that he had seen in the dream, but he did not have the gems that were necessary, and he threw the spell from his mind.

The spell did not stay in the recesses of his mind of long however; one day he visited the forges, he was there to get fresh metal as he found it was more potent than metal that had been sitting. He astounded when he saw that the prize that he had been seeking the entire time had been beneath his feet.

The magic that coursed through the walls of the cavern that held the forges did not just permeate the wall, but it flowed through it. Of course one would think that all that magic went somewhere, and a wizard would tell you that it went into the earth itself, but Raccan could see that the magic was absorbed by small clear crystals.

For the goblins the crystals had been worthless. Wizards did not care for them because they did not react well to magic, and the goblins could not smelt them as the flames of the furnaces were magically induced and therefore incapable of affecting the gems, but Raccan could feel the magic within them, and he knew that they were just what he needed.

He grabbed a handful of them and left to his cave (one that had been given to him by Ragnarok to distance him from the other goblins). The hole in the stone was workable, but there were numerous rats that tried to make themselves at home. They were the first of his test subjects.

He would cast the spell that he had come to call soul trap on them and then kill them allowing their souls to travel to the soul gems. It turned out that the rats were weak and their souls could easily be held in the smaller of the gems, but they had little power in them, and thus they were unsuitable for powering enchantments (unless one was only looking for a quick fix).

Upon discovering this he moved on to the bigger creatures that lived within the caves. Most thought only goblins inhabited the crevices underneath Gringotts, yet there were many other creatures that made it their home.

Raccan armed himself with enchanted weapons, and soul gems to keep them powered as he looked to unlock the secrets of soul gems. He came across gargoyles, trolls, and even ogres, and he found that the stronger the creature the more power their soul would contain, however it would require a larger gem.

With this new information he began to venture into the caverns that most would not in order capture more souls, but eventually the creatures began to take notice of what was going on, and they moved deeper into the rocks.

He did not pursue them as he knew that he was being monitored by the goblins and there was a great chance that they would feel he was trying to flee from their clutches. His research began to stagnate and it drove him nearly mad, and when he could take it no more he made a decision that nearly cost him his life.

It was during the time of sleep (goblins did not get much sunlight, and they did not know truly when the sun rose). His need to research brought him to a conclusion that a sentient soul would hold the more power than any other type of soul, so he had been planning to capture one. He had never tried it before (as he had not thought to do so fearing retaliation from the goblins), but the madness that came from reaching a plateau in his research mad him reckless.

He followed one of the goblin forgers to their cave, and cast the soul trap on him. The goblin turned when he felt the magic wash over him, but Raccan was too fast and the goblin never saw the sword to the heart. He had never killed another sentient being before, and he nearly vomited when he realized what he had done, but he held it back.

He watched the body waiting for the soul to leave and flow to the gem that he was carrying, but it did not. Raccan could not believe that the gem did not attract the soul. He smashed his fist into the wall. He had never expected such a problem, but he should have known that it would happen.

Sentient creatures, even those who had no magic that they could call upon did have magic that flowed within them. Their ability to think seemed to be guided by this magic, and Raccan hypothesized that this was the reason that they resisted the soul gem. It did not have the magical capability to bypass the innate magic that came with sentience. He began to call that magic survivor's magic, as it was the only way to describe the survival of a sentient being in times when death seemed assured, but the soul would cling to life.

He tried everything in his power to find a way to get around the survivor's magic, but in the end he decided to meditate. His magic dreams had always seemed to give him the answers, and he supposed that this was no different.

As he meditated a voice came into his mind. It was soft and simpering "It has been long since the world has seen me."

"Who are you?" Raccan had never heard of a disembodied voice speaking to anyone as they mediated, but he somehow could feel that the voice meant him no harm.

"I am Namira child and I have come to give you a reward." Suddenly he felt as though something was forcing its way into his mind. His head was filled with a searing hot pain for a moment, and then it was gone as though it had never been there before.

For a split second he did not know what had happened, but then he understood what he needed to do in order to capture a sentient soul. He would have thanked the voice, but it was gone and he was awake.

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Several days later he took one of the gems to the forges. The goblins were mostly asleep except for the forge workers. As he entered the forge he noticed that the cavern was not glowing its usual blue but purple.

He took one of the gems that he had brought with him and touched it to one of the purple lines in the stone. The gem began to glow softly for a moment, and then its color shifted until it was an utter black rather than a crystal blue. He repeated the process several more times until he had a full stock of the black soul gems.

Once he had the gems that he needed he only had to find the souls. He had not thought about killing that lone goblin after his failure to capture his soul, but he did not feel bad about killing, in fact he was looking forward to it, and before he realized what he was doing he had killed three of the forge workers before he was subdued and brought before Ragnarok.

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"I plead guilty" He had never planned to fight against his charges. They all knew the truth, and he knew it was futile.

Rugem was crying furiously. She had come to see her child resist the charges, but even she could tell by the resigned look on his face that he had done it.

"Do you have anything to say before we pass judgment?" Ragnarok asked. He did not care what the boy had to say. He was a murderer and they were going to rid themselves of him.

"I am sorry." The goblins around him began to scream and curse. They knew that he was not sorry, and that he could care less about his crimes. He was only sorry that he had not thought things through and had gotten himself caught.

"Raccan… you are herby sentenced to… exile from Endour." The entire hall was mystified by that decision. They had all expected the boy to be killed, but Ragnarok would have none of that.

The boy might have been a murderer, but he was a warrior, and a warrior did not deserve to die because they could not be taken care of. If someone had been there to guide the human then he would have been a great asset, but he and his advisors had been to busy seeing him as an enemy, and now he was a danger to their people, but if he was to be taken in by the wizards then he would be a danger to them instead.

"Your things have been packed. Report to that carts and you will be escorted to the main floor of the bank and out from there." There was more cursing and anger from the crowd, but Ragnarok was hearing none of it.

He was battling with himself. His conscience was telling him that his people were right and the boy should be killed, but his pride was telling him otherwise. The boy was a warrior and to see a warrior die anything but a warrior's death was not the goblin way.

They had always lived by the sword and died by it, and that was what the child personified. He was a fighter (proven by his slaying of five guards before they capture him) and he would accept nothing less than a proper death. He knew that his people could not give that to him, but maybe the wizards could, or perhaps they would suffer just as he had.

It was because of them that the boy had become what he was, and it was only fitting that the wizards deal with their problems. 'Though maybe…' he began to think as the boy turned and followed the guards to the carts 'Maybe we should have killed him all those years ago.'

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	8. Chapter 8

Hermione did not know why she was headed back to the forest that she had met the elf Harry in. She supposed she wanted to see the creature again. He was interesting, and he was the only other mage that she had met.

As she made her way through the trees she canceled the invisibility spell that she had shrouded herself in. She did not want a repeat of their last meeting, especially considering the fact that they had met over a year prior and he could have only gotten stronger (that was not to say that she was not training).

"What are you doing here again Hermione?" The voice that belonged to Harry came from high in the trees, and she was unsurprised to spot him standing on one of the branches of a rather large tree. His bow was not on his person, but she was cautious as it could be summoned at any moment.

Hermione held her hands up. Harry did not take her as a threat, but he was perplexed by her being in his territory again. He had assumed that she would not return after the last time that she had been there, but he had apparently been wrong.

"I mean you no harm… I simply wanted to talk." Harry did not think that she was lying, but he could tell that she was conflicted about something.

He gave a sigh and plopped down onto the branch with his legs crossed. "What did you want to talk about? The first time that we met was a long time ago, and I can't believe that you came to talk after so long."

Hermione swallowed thickly. There was something about the bosmer that gripped her heart. There was no fear of him or anything of the like, but there was something that she could not rationalize. It made her act in ways that she had not imagined and it had been the cause of her retreat the last time that they had done battle. It was almost like even though they were different races there was something that was familiar about him.

"Where did you leave that you were a mage?" Harry frowned. He had never heard Siersa refer to him as a mage. In fact he was not quite sure what the word meant.

"A mage? Don't you mean wizard?" he assumed that the word was the same as wizard.

Hermione shook her head. "Wizard?" she asked incredulously. "Wizards are nothing more than clowns with a few tricks. Mages command magic."

She had heard that court mages within certain parts of Tamriel were sometimes referred to as wizards, but she had always found the reference distasteful. To her wizards and mages were like night and day. Wizards specialized in flashy spells that seemed to get nothing done, while true mages were trained in (or learned independently) magic to suit a specific purpose, such as fighting.

Harry noticed the disgust in her voice. "Do you not like wizards?"

"I don't. They're nothing like us. They might use magic, but we are superior." The elf frowned at that. It sounded like what his Uncle would say: he (Harry) was a freak, and he (Vernon) was better than him by being normal.

"Doesn't that make us the same as them?" he did not like the way that these talks were going. He hated it when anyone thought they were better than someone else. It reminded him of the abuses that he had suffered at the hands of his family.

"No it doesn't. We use magic differently, besides they're bound by wands." She did not truly know if wizards had to use wands, but she was going off the top of her head. She had done that with the magics of Elder Scrolls, and that had turned out to be the right decision, so now she was doing the same with fairytales that she had heard as a child.

"Wands?" cocked his head to the side in confusion. He had never used a wand for magic, so why would anyone else need one? "They have to have sticks to use magic?"

She nodded. "Yes they do. Without a wand they can't do magic like us."

"Why do they have to use sticks? I mean we don't."

"I don't know why they have to use wands. As far as I've been told it's just the difference between wizards and mages."

Harry scowled. He had not thought that other people who used magic would need wands. He had simply assumed that everyone could do it like him, and Hermione had been a point to the favor of that theory, but now he wasn't so sure. Maybe the girl was lying to him.

"How do I know…" he trailed off as he heard the sound of footsteps coming from behind him. Hermione threw her hand up and was covered in a glow before she faded from view. Harry's bow appeared in his hand and he grabbed an arrow.

"Who's there?" he did not fire the arrow as he had done with Hermione. He had nearly killed her, and he was not keen on killing another sentient being just yet.

A woman came from the brush. She was a woman with dark hair and a stern looking face wearing a green dress. She wore glasses that only seemed to make her look even more "no-nonsense".

"I am Minerva McGonagall, and I am looking for one Harry Potter." She did not hesitate as she spoke to the elf. She had not realized that he was an elf, but that was something that one would expect from a witch or a wizard. They had been raised with the notion that the only elves that were alive were house elves, and so to her Harry was just a boy in the woods.

"I'm Harry Potter." She smiled at him. She had been waiting for a very long time, and so had the rest of the wizarding world. Now they had their savior back, and she could see what would become of the son of her greatest student.

"Well then Mr. Potter I am proud to present you with this." She handed him a letter. He did not know where it had come from, but he took it.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Head Master Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin First Class, Grand Sorc, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump International Confederation of Wizards)

Dear Mr. H Potter,

Epping Forest

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1st September. We await your owl by no later than 31st July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

UNIFORM

First-year students will require:

1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4. One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags.

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)

by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic

by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory

by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration

by Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi

by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions

by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection

by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring, if they desire, an owl OR a cat OR a toad.

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS

ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICK

Harry looked over the letter several times before he held it out toward McGonagall. "I'm sorry, but you're mistaken. I might be Harry Potter, but I'm not a wizard."

McGonagall was shocked. She could clearly see the scar on the boy's forehead. She knew that he was Harry Potter, but he was denying being a wizard. She began to think the worst for a moment before it dawned on her that he probably did not believe in magic. He had after all not been raised with it.

"I can assure you Mr. Potter that magic is indeed real." She flicked her risk and a long slender piece of wood that Harry recognized as a wand was within her hand.

"I know magic is real Mrs. McGonagall." He said allowing his bow to dissipate into nothingness. She had seen the weapon, but had assumed that he had gotten it from the person that had likely found him (as she thought that no child could survive in the wild on their own).

"How did you do that?" Her voice was soft, and filled with awe. She had never seen wandless magic on that scale even from Albus, and he was the premier expert on it in Britain.

Harry raised an eyebrow, and he heard faint snickering from where he knew Hermione was hiding. "Magic. Is it that uncommon for someone who uses magic to do magic?"

"It is not uncommon for magical people to do magic, but it is very uncommon for them to do so without the use of a wand." She tried to suppress the astonishment that she felt, but she could not keep it from her face.

"You mean there are people who have to use wands?" he would not have been so direct normally, but he wanted to know if what Hermione had said was true. He could not imagine that it was, but what better way was there to find out than from the source.

"Of course all wizards have to use wands."The elf frowned, and he could feel the joy radiating from Hermione. She had been right the wizards did use wands, and it was abnormal for someone to be able to perform magic without one.

"Like I said before Mrs. McGonagall I'm not a wizard." McGonagall looked scandalized at his second denial of his heritage. She had seen him perform magic, but he refused to be called a wizard. To her it was a crime.

"Mr. Potter only wizards can use magic." She needed to get her point across so that she could take him to Diagon Alley for his supplies. She was not going home without the boy who lived.

Her statement was foul with wizard superiority, and she could see that she was ignorant of mages (he mentally noted to himself that wizards and mages were truly two different kinds of magic users)

"Are there not other creatures that are capable of using magic?" the old witch mentally sighed. The boy was too inquisitive for his own good. He should have been ready to go see the magical world the moment that she had given him his letter.

"Yes there are other creatures that can use magic, but only humans can cast the spells that a witch or wizard can, and that is afforded to them by the use of a wand."

Harry left out a low sigh and shook his head. "What you fail to realize Mrs. McGonagall is that I am an elf not a human." He pointed to his ears and McGonagall's eyes widened. She had noticed the tale –tale point before because she had been too enamored by the lightning bolt shaped scar that donned his forehead

"Mr. Potter I assure you that you are completely human." She made to step forward and take him in a hug. It seemed to her that he was delusional, and whomever he had been living with should be take to see a mind healer, but she never made it close enough to the boy as Hermione appeared before her.

The Khajiit bore her fangs, and flexed her fingers as lighting arched between her fingers. "He told you that he is no wizard. He is a mage like me."

.

Minerva recoiled at the sight of the cat girl. She had never seen such a creature outside of failed human transfiguration attempts, and she was sure that she would have known if such a case was at hand (she was the most premiere transfiguration expert outside of Dumbledore who was far too busy to handle such things). She vaguely able to identify the cat creature as a young girl, but it did not make her quell her reluctance in the least.

"What happened to you?" She could only hope that the change that the girl had suffered was reversible. It was not often that a child got into trouble like what she was seeing with their accidental magic and most cases were only able to be reversed when the change had taken place a short while before it was discovered.

Hermione glared at the transfiguration mistress. "There is nothing wrong with me."

"What do you mean there's nothing wrong with you?" Minerva barely held back a yell. How could the child say that nothing was wrong? "You've turned yourself into a bloody animal!"

Before the witch knew what had happened she found a dagger poised at her throat. Harry was the one holding it, and she could only look at him with mute horror. She had never expected the son of James to attack her, but now he had her life in his hands.

Harry for his part would have rather not gotten involved with the witch. It was obvious from the way that she talked that he would have no place with her kind (they denied the existence of elves when he was living proof). If she was anything to go by the wizards most likely thought they were the greatest magic users in the world, and that others were nothing more than trash.

He would have told her that he was not interested and let her be on her way, but she had insulted Hermione. Now he might not have known the girl well, but she was a mage like him, and she was not truly human like him, and that put them in the same predicament. If the witch was willing to treat Hermione as sub-human then when she realized that he was truly an elf then it was highly likely that she would do that same to him.

"She is no beast. She is a person just like you." Minerva swallowed thickly. The blade was not pressing hard enough to draw blood, but she knew that it only took one false move to change that.

"I know she is a person…" She began trying to subtly move away a little. "but the girl's going to get herself killed using an incomplete transfiguration like that."

Hermione laughed. "This is not incomplete anything. I am Khajiit, and we are beast people. I can assume a human form if I wish, but this is my natural state." It would do no good to tell the woman that it was vice versa.

Minerva's breath hitched. There could have been no possible way that such a species could have existed. They would have known just as they knew of all other magical species. There was no such thing as this "Khajiit", and the elves that humans prescribed to were nothing more than fairytales; house-elves were the only elves that existed.

"Please listen to me!" Minerva pleaded. "You two are both unwell! You magic has changed you, and you need to be treated!"

Harry's eyes narrowed, and he pressed the blade deeper in her throat finally bringing forth the crimson color of her blood. He had never killed before, but it seemed that she would be his first victim. She was a danger to him and Hermione, and he could tell that if she were to be left alive that she would only let the other wizards know where to find them.

As the elf was about to end the woman's life two red bolts of energy came from the shadows striking him and the Khajiit. They crumpled to the ground not unconscious, but unable to move for the moment.

Minerva was overjoyed to see Serverus step out into the light. He looked at Harry and Hermione, and then to Minerva. "I trust you will explain to me what was going on?"

Minerva nodded mutely the shock of it all was wearing on her. Even during the first war she had never come so close to death, but (as she rubbed her neck) she knew that had the dark haired man been even a moment later she would not have lived to see him.

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"Poppy what have you found?" Dumbledore asked the medical witch as she ran diagnostic charms on Harry and Hermione. The Khajiit and elf had both been bound after it was realized that stunners only caused them paralysis for a five minutes.

"Albus I am afraid there is nothing that I can do about it. Every charm that I've run tells me that they are both non-human. Harry is something called a 'bosmer', and the girl is something called a Khajiit."

Dumbledore began to pace back and forth around the room. There had to be some way that he could return things to the way that they should have been. He needed Harry to be a wizard so that he could study at Hogwarts. If the boy was left to wander around then Voldemort would have no trouble killing him, and destroying the only salvation that the wizards of Britain had.

An idea came to mind. He knew that it was risky, but it was the only thing that came to him. Deftly he produced the elder wand from his robes. He rarely used it outside of battle as his old wand was normally more than enough, but he wanted to take no chances.

He pointed his wand at Harry. The elven boy struggled viciously, but the straps that held him down to the medical cot were charmed to be unbreakable. Dumbledore mutter a spell under his breath and a gold light erupted from his wand washing over Harry. Harry grit his teeth at the foreign intrusion of magic.

Dumbledore watched as his spell began to do its work. Harry's skin began to turn paler to that color that James' had been, his ears rounded, and all of the other changes that being an elf had brought onto the boy were slowly reversed. When everything was (in Dumbledore's eyes) as it should be he turned his wand to the girl. He did not know how she had looked as a human, but he let the magic guide him, and she too was returned to a human form. The elderly wizard let out a sigh of relief.

However that relief did not last long as the changes that he had rot fell away, and once again a Khajiit and an elf were lying in the beds.

Dumbledore turn to Poppy. "Ensure that they do not leave. I will be employing the entirety of my resources to solve this problem."

He walked briskly out of the room. A short while later Poppy went to the bathroom, and that proved to be a mistake. Minerva in had told the other staff that they could use magic, but she had described it as uncontrolled accidental magic, and due to that no one had bothered to ward the beds against magic, and in swift order Hermione had frozen both beds. The straps were resistant to breaking, however the beds were not, and when they froze the legs snapped sending them chasing to the ground and shattering them.

Harry and Hermione were freed, and they both wasted no time diving out of the window and sprinting full tilt toward the forest. When Poppy returned to the room she quickly summoned a patronus to warn the Headmaster and the staff of what had happened.


	9. Chapter 9

Most would think that leaving Endour would be freedom to Ron (He was stripped of everything that tied him to the goblins, even his name), but for the boy it was insanity. He no longer had the resources to continue his enchanting, and more importantly even if he did have the materials he lacked the soul gems, and he was sure that the wizards would be more than willing to kill him if he were caught dabbling in soul magics (they were not very fond of things like that).

After his exile he had been given a room at the Leaky Cauldron for a month, and after that he would have to do things for himself. He did not know what he was going to do. He knew nothing about how the humans operated, and it was going to be a pain for him to learn.

As he sat on his bed thinking over how he was going to get information he heard a tapping at his window. He looked over and saw an owl with a letter on its foot. He knew that owls were used to deliver messages so he let the bird in and took the missive from its foot.

He was surprised to see that it was a Hogwarts acceptance letter. He would have assumed that his being raised by the goblins would have disqualified him from being accepted by the school. They had certain policies in regards to nonhumans and that included that non-humans were not to have wands, and having lived with the creatures for most of his life should have been more than enough to disqualify him from having one ( though he supposed he could not use one anyway).

The bird had not left meaning they had sent the animal with the intention of having it collect his reply. This to Ron was a chance to gain some knowledge; he went to the single dresser in the room and opened a drawer. He rummaged around for a moment before finding a piece of parchment and a quill.

He quickly penned a reply. He wanted to go to Hogwarts, but he had no way of paying for his schooling. He had heard from the bartender Tom that there was some kind of trust that was given to those students who were unable to pay. That was what Ron was aiming for; if he was unable to get into the program then he would have to resort to drastic measures.

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Dumbledore was glad that he had been able to get a feel for Harry's magics, as a simple point-me spell attuned to his name would have been useless. The boy was not the same as the child as he had been when he was a babe, and that change that he was sure was brought somehow by the boy's magic had altered something within him.

The elderly wizard wanted nothing more than to have things return to normal. If anyone got wind of what was going on then he would have a political firestorm to deal with.

He was tracking the duo through the forbidden forest along with Hagrid and Severus. Severus was the best duelist outside of Filius (the diminutive professor had stayed to help fix the bed and windows of the hospital wing), but he trusted the man with his life, and Hagrid was always a plus to have in a dangerous situation.

"Headmaster what is your plan once we find them?" Snape did not like the current state of affairs. He understood that Harry was important to how things would play out (with the prophecy that revolved around him and the Dark Lord), but the man could not for the life of him see what Dumbledore was seeing. Minerva had reacted poorly to the ordeal, and he could not help but think that Albus was doing the same.

"We must convince them to return and allow us to undo their transformations." That seemed at be a focal point for the bearded man, one that was lost on Severus. The children (from what the old lioness had told them) could use magic without wands, so to him it seemed that trying to force them to do as the others did was nothing more than a waste.

"What if you are unable to do so?" Hagrid nearly stopped in his tracks at that, but Dumbledore was not perturbed in the least.

"Snape yer should'n doubt Dumbledore. He'll get em to come." Severus ignored the half-giant. This had nothing to do with him, but he could see why Dumbledore brought the man with them. A follower like Hagrid was a godsend; he allowed the old man to act as he did because he believed that Albus was infallible. It was laughable that the leader of the Light needed constant praise to see the day through.

"Severus is not doubting me. He simply sees the complexity of the situation. There is a chance that I may fail, and for that I have a contingency."

The forest began to thicken around them, and the sun was blotted out, but Snape was paying more attention to the conversation than his surroundings (he was still aware of most things around him). The white haired man rarely admitted his mistakes, and he very rarely heard him acknowledge there was a chance that he would fail.

"What is this contingency?" There was a low wind rustling through the leaves, and the group came to a stop in a clearing. The clearing was not large, being less than twenty feet in diameter, but it offered small bit of sunlight which was a respite, but they all knew that it could be a trap. Hagrid grabbed the crossbow from his back, and both wizards readied their wands.

"We shall hope it doesn't come to that." Dumbledore took a step forward, but almost immediately stepped back, and an arrow tore through the air. If he would have continued forward there was no doubt that he would have been skewered.

The three men scanned that area but could spot nothing. There was a slight whoosh, and Snape threw up a hasty protégé. The shield was immediately shattered with a large orb of electricity, and the energy continued on as if he had never tried to stop it. It was only his years of dueling experience that allowed him to dodge by rolling to the side.

Hagrid took a shot in the direction that the spell had come from, but he hit nothing more than a tree. Dumbledore tapped his wand to his head, and his vision shifted slightly; his vision was improved, and he could see through most enchantments and spells allowing him to spot Hermione who was moving through the shadows.

He aimed his wand and a volley of silver arrows shot from the tip. They raced at breakneck speed toward the Khajiit. She duck and rolled under the barrage allowing them to hit the tree behind her with voracious force.

Seeing that her chameleon spell was no longer affective she canceled it. She brought her hands together with open palms and focused her magic. A swirling mist formed within her palms and she hurled it at the group.

Severus and Albus both raised shields, while Hagrid held his crossbow in front of him with his hands covering his face. The mist turned into a howling blizzard that buffeted the shields with harrowing winds and bitter cold, yet they held. Hagrid on the other hand was not as lucky. The blizzard froze the hair of his beard, and he could barely feel his arms.

Severus dropped his shield first and whipped his wand a spell on the tip of his tongue; it never left his lips as a giant like creature made of ice appeared and slammed one of its hands into the ground causing a row of thick sharp icicles to burst forth rushing toward the potions master. He rolled out of the way, and let loose a torrent of flame from his wand.

The creature surely felt it (if the backwards stagger was any measurement), yet it did not seem visibly damaged. Severus gripped his wand until he could feel his knuckles were white. The fight was not going in their favor, and soon they would be forced to retreat. There had to be a way to cease the battle.

He shot high powered fireball at the ice golem, and the monster was barely affected by it, but the thin layer of water that was forming on the beast's body told the potions expert that he was on the right track.

He touched his wand to his throat silently casting a low powered sonorous charm while simultaneously dodging another row of deadly ice skewers.

"What will this battle solve?" the enhanced voice of Snape reverberated through the clearing, and though all heard him no one paused in their brawl. "If you kill us more of our kind will hunt you, and you will be fighting a war that you cannot win. We outnumber you, and sooner or later you will fall."

Dumbledore and Snape were master wizards, and they would escape if the situation came to it, though the same could not be said for Hagrid, yet they all knew that they would find a way to get out of the forest alive, but that was beside the point.

Dumbledore could not understand the angel that Severus was approaching the situation from. It would have seemed to the old man that the Head of House Slytherin would have wanted nothing more than to put Harry in his place, but this move contradicted that.

Harry and Hermione on the other hand understood what was going on. They could see that the man was likely right. There were only two of them, and although they seemed to hold the advantage there was not a doubt that more wizards lurked about.

"What would you have us do?" Harry yelled from a tree. "If we surrender ourselves to you you'll only try to change us and force our bodies to become human. We're not meant to be a part of your society. We're mages not wizards."

"You use magic as do we. Does that not make us breather? Whether by wand or hand we can use magic, is that not an equalizer?"

Dumbledore went nearly slack jawed. Severus had always seemed to have a hard time controlling his emotions, and he rarely composed himself the way that he was.

"It should be, but your people are arrogant thinking that they know all. Elves and Khajiit exist and we are not second class beings. We are sentient just like you." The Khajiit nearly roared as she finished.

Snape gave her a curious stare. The golem was no longer moving, but it was vigilant, as were Dumbledore and Hagrid.

"So that is the root of this problem?" The rhetorical question came from Snape's lips like velvet. "You don't trust us not because we don't view magic as you do, but because you have seen the bigotry of our society. But answer me this where else in this world can you go? There are no other elves of your kind boy, and these Khajiit have never been observed except for you girl. You two are alone, and the muggle world will make no accommodation; they would rather dissect you and learn more about you. We may be bigoted, but at least you can prove yourselves and make a place within our world, or you can continue to run from us and the muggles for the rest of your existence."

Harry looked at Hermione, and she gave him a sad grin. The man was right; they would have to hide forever, and eventually they would be captured or killed. She wanted to fight, but these kinds of odds were not the kind that anyone would bet against.

"If we go with you will you force us to be human?" Dumbledore would have spewed some rhetoric about how it was for the greater good that they be humans, and that it would only hurt their standing, but Snape did not give the man time to do so.

"No we will not. You wish to prove your worth to our society, it would only be befitting if you were to do so as you are."

Hermione nodded and Harry allowed the spell that had conjured the golem to fade and the creature vanished into the ether. Snape turned letting out the breath he had been holding in. He was not sure that his plan was going to work, yet it had and that was all that mattered. He just hoped that Dumbledore did not do anything to muck it up.


End file.
